


Finding Solace

by distinctlyME



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Multi, Slow Burn, Slow Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-15
Updated: 2019-02-20
Packaged: 2019-09-19 15:02:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17003898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/distinctlyME/pseuds/distinctlyME
Summary: Struggling to find peace in the post-war era, Hermione grapples with new feelings that arise while working in close proximity to the man who first introduced her to the cruelty of the Wizarding World. Will she be able to put aside her own prejudices to move forward and find happiness, or will her anger hold her back from discovering her heart?





	1. Chapter One: Flashes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I do not own anything related to Harry Potter or written by JK Rowling. Everything else is my own.

 

 

 

** Chapter One: Flashes **

 

_It was as if she were underwater, left suspended in a world without sound and hazy images. A figure lay just before her, another was draped over it, and she could see their shoulders shaking, could feel the anguish radiating from them in waves. No sound, however, reached her. She felt separate from the world at that moment as she gazed down at the dead body of Fred Weasley._

_She seemed to be moving through a fog as she reached out and grabbed Ginny’s hand in a tight embrace. Her mind seemed hazy and her vision was blurred. Her world felt fragmented and as she looked up hoping to find some form of understanding, her eyes caught sight of the rest of the ruin that surrounded her._

_Bodies lay littered across the floor of the Great Hall, taunting her each time she recognized someone she had known. Her heart stuttered at the sight of Remus and Tonks lying side by side, their hands reaching for one another even in death, their faces eerily peaceful. Her stomach plummeted through her body at the sight of Colin Creevey’s small lifeless body being lowered onto the ground, and her blood ran cold as she watched Lavender Brown take her last shuddering breath._

_Tearing her eyes from the devastation that surrounded her she caught sight of Ron clinging to his brother Bill, and with a start, Hermione realized Harry was nowhere to be seen._

_Sound crashed down upon her then. The sorrowful sounds that echoed through the Great Hall almost deafening. Ron looked over at her, his expression wrinkled with dread when he too realized Harry wasn’t there. It told her everything she had feared._

_He had gone. Harry had gone to Voldemort._

_She turned, ready to race after him, hoping she could reach him, knowing she couldn’t lose him too. Before she could move, a cold clear voice rose above the noise of the surrounding heartache, and Hermione felt her world shatter completely._

_“Harry Potter is dead.”_

  

* * *

 

 

   Hermione sat staring out the window, the bleak scenery whizzing past as rain fell in torrents against the pane. The train rattled softly, and she began to feel drowsy. Lightning flashed across the sky, briefly startling Hermione from her trailing thoughts.

 

_Hermione stood in the midst of battle, unsure of where to turn first, of where to raise her wand, who to fight. Colours streamed in and out of her vision, nearly blinding her with their ferocity. Cloaks and limbs whirled about her in an almost artistic fashion. Voices screamed, bodies fell, and Hermione stood watching it all as she looked for her loved ones, too stunned by the chaos to move. It was then she felt a curse so vicious whizz past her ear that she was forced to. She whipped around in the direction in which the sickly green killing curse had come from, only to find herself staring at the cackling face of Bellatrix Lestrange. Hermione felt her heart plummet at the sight of Luna, prostrate on the floor in front of Bellatrix’s feet, wand raised in a last-ditch effort to shield herself from what she knew was coming._

_A body threw her to the side, and Hermione witnessed a vibrant strand of red hair fly past her. Ginny’s scream echoed in her ears, and it was only then that Hermione truly jumped into action. With a vicious sense of determination, she threw herself into battle beside Ginny and Luna and watched with a vengeful triumph when Bellatrix faltered slightly at their onslaught._

 

  Hermione turned at a disturbance to her right to see Luna enter the compartment. She watched distantly as the blonde seated herself beside Ginny and took out an old copy of the Quibbler she’d taken to carrying around with her after the war. Hermione let out a soft sigh and turned back toward the window and the rain, letting more memories wash over her.

 

_It seemed to end too abruptly. Watching Voldemort’s body fall felt surreal to her. She could only distantly feel the war’s triumph surging through the crowd, and she could only vaguely understand the safety which now lingered over her and her friends. It didn’t feel real. Wasn’t sitting right. Though people were still grieving, the sense of victory and celebration which circulated throughout the Great Hall felt butchered and misguided._

_Now as Hermione sat at her old house table looking out upon the survivors of the war, misery and loss and an uncertainty crashed down upon her. How was this victory? How was this relief? How was this_ it _?_

_Neville’s clear strong voice could be heard amongst those halfway down the table, and Hermione turned to look at her friend. She watched as he sat beside his grandmother war-torn and beaten, but hearty and cheerful. The sword of Gryffindor sat on the table before him, a proud smile upon his features as he recanted his story of the past year. She grimaced at his enthusiasm and turned away._

_The Weasleys sat just beside her: Ginny with her head upon her mother’s shoulder, a small smile on her face as she followed the story her father quietly shared to aid in the spirits of his family. Ron with his hand resting on her thigh, his gaze glued to that of his mother’s small twisted smile, as his eyes sparkled in the aftermath of victory. Hermione moved her gaze beyond the Weasleys, too sick with weariness to join in their desperate cleave to peace._

_It was, then, she noticed Luna sat huddled in front of her, clutching her wand to her chest protectively, eyes downcast and body shaking. Her hands were bathed in cuts, and her lip looked to be split. There was a great amount of dried blood collecting at her hairline and her waves glistened with pieces of broken glass. Hermione found herself reaching over the table and wrapping her hands around the other girls. Luna looked up at her then and Hermione saw a kindred spirit at that moment. This wasn’t the Luna she had met during her fifth year, so sure and secure in herself and her place in the world. This was a broken dejected girl, unsure of what the world now held. A girl who had seen too much too fast and who felt she had yet to see it all. She knew the instant their eyes met that Luna felt it too. Felt that this wasn’t the end. That the war and their fight wasn’t quite over._

 

   Hermione’s shoulder shook, and she gazed up into the warm brown eyes of Ginny Weasley. “We’re here ‘Mione. We’ve reached the station.” Ginny pushed Hermione’s small beaded bag into her hand and turned to wake a sleeping Luna.

When all three had quietly gathered their belongings, they made their way off the train and toward the small building to their left. Each of the girls looked about the foggy area, taking in the small station nestled between a thicket of woods. It reminded them of Hogsmeade, and they fell into an uneasy silence as they started for the doors leading into the small waiting area inside.

“Charlie said they would meet us here. We’re a little early, so they may not be here for anot-“

“-Gin, over here!” All three girls turned at the sound of the eldest Weasley’s voice. A small smile lit Ginny’s face as she took in the sight of her big brother, and before either of the girls could move or speak, Charlie had glided over to them, wrapping Ginny and Luna in one big hug. Hermione stood there, smiling slightly at the scene, warmed by the way Charlie ruffled Luna’s hair and made her smile, and how Ginny clung just a little bit longer to her brother. It was odd when these moments occurred, and in the months following Voldemort’s downfall, they felt few and far between for Hermione. When she experienced them she felt a part of her old self reawaken and shift. It was both reassuring and uncomfortable.

As Hermione immersed herself in her musings and self-evaluations, two strong arms encircled her waist, and a woodsy scent enveloped her in its familiar and healing fragrance. “Glad to see you’re here Hermione. Wasn’t so sure you’d be coming.” The deep baritone of Charlie’s voice reverberated about her, and Hermione soaked it in, thankful for the reassurance it seemed to give her.

“I know,” she replied quietly, looking up into his twinkling eyes.

He pulled away slowly and patted her on the shoulder. Looking to his sister he raised a slight eyebrow, “Not much luggage between the three of you. Here I was expecting to be put to work.”

Ginny laughed lightly and swung her arm through the crook of Charlie’s elbow, steering him towards the doors leading to a small parking lot. “We’re witches, Charlie. We don’t need to carry a whole lot of luggage if we don’t wish to. Is George not here with you? I thought he would come by to pick us up.”

“McGonagall had Shacklebolt pull some strings and got us a Ministry car. George is out waiting in it.” Charlie pointed ahead, and Hermione could see the slight outline of George sitting in the front seat of an old Ford Anglia.

The sight of the vehicle made Hermione smile slightly. It was the exact same model her two best friends drove to Hogwarts in their second year, creating a great deal of chaos in the process. It was an adventure she had not participated in but one she remembered fondly as her boys’ mischief. The smile faltered quickly however as she remembered what that car must have meant for George, and she wondered how he was handling being faced with yet another memory of his deceased twin.

The small group unloaded the few bags they had on them into the boot of the car, and the three of them quickly clambered into the rather spacious backseat as Charlie settled into the front with George.

“McGonagall won’t be arriving until tomorrow, and she plans to hold the meeting that evening. In the meantime, she’s rented us rooms at a muggle Inn the next town over. It’s very remote, the perfect place, really, to host this. The owner is a squib that McGonagall knows, so we won’t have to worry about any eccentricities we might exhibit while we’re there. Good thing too, some of the people who’ll be there have not spent much time with muggles. I’d be afraid of someone mucking something up because of it. At least now if anyone should, there won’t be a need to explain it away or Obliviate anyone...” Charlie continued to prattle on as he turned out of the parking lot and onto a dimly lit road.

Hermione listened half-heartedly as she watched the darkened scenery pass her by. Charlie’s comment to her back in the train station was swimming around her head, and she wondered for what probably wouldn’t be her last time, whether or not her coming had been the wisest choice. She hadn’t wanted to when she was first approached about the project.

In fact, she ignored all of the missives Kingsley Shacklebolt had sent her regarding it. It had been a letter from her beloved Professor and onetime Head of House that had changed her mind in the long run.

 

_A warm breeze swayed in the trees above her as Hermione sat nestled upon the grass, a cold glass of lemonade in her hand and a worn book upon her lap. She had spent many moments just like this throughout her years here. Usually, she would be watching the Weasleys and Harry play a game of Quidditch, while Missus Weasley sat in her favourite lawn chair, humming a Celestina Warbeck song, and knitting one of her many jumpers. Love and laughter would ring throughout the Burrow, cocooning everyone in its drowsy happy embrace and bringing about a sort of peace one couldn’t seem to find anywhere else._

_But as Hermione sat sipping her drink, the distinct lack of these feelings made her wonder if those days had been but a long distant dream. George sat beside her looking off into the distance, silent as ever, even months after Fred’s death. Molly and Ginny were working in the garden. Molly had broken from the haze of peace and fallen apart only days after the war, and it fell upon Ginny to take on the reigns of the household Molly once held. Most days Molly could be found sitting in her rocker, holding on to Fred’s old baby blanket, weeping silently as she rocked back and forth. On rare occasions, Ginny could convince her mother to keep herself busy, to move forward in her life after the war.  Today seemed to be one of those days. It was sad to see Molly this way, and Hermione wasn’t sure which hurt her more to be around: Molly mourning the loss of her child or Molly pretending to be the Molly she once was. Both were equally heartbreaking to witness._

_Hermione tore her eyes away from the two women and toward the hill that separated the Weasley property from the town of Ottery St. Catchpole. Mister Weasley stood there, staring off into the village, a sad little smile on his face as he looked down upon Fred’s gravestone._

_A spot just beyond the silhouette of the Weasley patriarch caught Hermione’s attention, and she watched as a tawny owl made its way towards her. A letter was dropped upon her lap, and the owl left, quickly sweeping off into the distance once more. Hermione found herself surprised by the neat and familiar handwriting adorning the front of the envelope. Tearing into it carefully, she pulled the letter from its casing:_

 

August 5th, 1998

Hermione,

      Kingsley Shacklebolt has informed me you have yet to respond to his letters regarding Hogwarts. I write to you to ask of your assistance myself. Your magical ability and giving heart would greatly benefit all in the rebuilding of the school.

I know that after everything you have done for the wizarding world this is asking quite a lot of you, and I understand your great hesitance in lending your help in this endeavour. No one would think less of you if you wished to say no.

You have lost much, Hermione. More than anyone your age should have. You deserve your life to yourself, to heal and to move on. However, Hogwarts is in great distress, along with the rest of our world. The war has stripped much from us, and I hope to return some of what we’ve lost to our future generations. I, however, have found myself with very few to turn to for aid in this.

Please consider helping me to rebuild Hogwarts, a school that means so much to me, that could mean so much to future witches and wizards, and once meant so much to you.

 

Yours Most Truly,

Minerva McGonagall

 

_It was the understanding that made Hermione pause. Kingsley simply wanted her for her heroine status. He wanted a poster child, a symbol. Something to show the world that Hogwarts wasn’t tainted from the battle. If a war heroine, who once fought and watched people die there, could return to the school, then anyone could. It was safe once again. McGonagall, on the other hand, understood. It didn’t matter if the school was safe again, it held memories that weren’t. It held heartbreak and devastation and the loss of her childhood in its broken walls. And yet, Hermione knew, it also held hope - hope for the future. And that’s all McGonagall wanted to give the castle. To give her, and the future generations, hope again. How could she walk away from that? Selfishly, she needed it. She needed that hope._

_It was in this realization that Hermione wrote back to Headmistress McGonagall. She would help rebuild Hogwarts, but her name would be left out of it. She would not be used as the Ministry’s poster child. She would help to restore the castle to what it once was and what she needed it to be again: a beacon of hope._

 

   Hermione sighed as the Ford Anglia turned into a dusty and winding driveway. Charlie was right. This was the perfect place to hold their gathering. The Inn was set far back, hidden by rows and rows of trees. The town it was situated in was at least a kilometre back down the main road, and no other buildings or homes seemed to surround the area.

As the group pulled to a stop, they looked upon the old Victorian home in interest. It stood at three stories and held the most fascinating air about it. It was cosy but not quite quaint, and there seemed to be a lack of homey-ness to it. Its pristine appearance gave it a coldness that didn’t seem to belong, and gazing upon it, Hermione was hit with the feeling that it didn’t hold much happiness inside it either.

Hermione followed Charlie in and to the front desk, listening quietly as he introduced them to the elderly woman who stood behind it. She smiled politely and shook each of the girl’s hands before she began to check them in. Hermione concentrated on the woman as she explained the features of the Inn, and where each of their rooms were.

As the woman told her and Ginny that they’d be sharing a room, Hermione caught a flash of white out of the corner of her eye and froze.

Her heart hammered in her chest, and she slowly turned towards the source, terrified of what she would find standing there. To her immense surprise, nothing greeted her sight and Hermione found herself rather unsettled. Looking around the rest of the foyer, she began to wonder if she had just been seeing things. A trick of the light, or a flash of a lamp. Surely it must have been something of the sort. It couldn’t be what she had thought it was anyway. It couldn’t be _who_ she thought it was…

“Here you go, dear, your room key. Dinner has already been had, but the kitchen is just through the dining room if you get hungry and if you’d like I could always bring you up a tray. Just let me know if you should need anything. You can usually find me right here behind this desk.” Hermione smiled tightly at the woman and responded with a small “Thank you” before turning and following Ginny up the stairs.

She was almost positive she had seen what she had. Perhaps it would be best if she just took her room key and went to bed. She must be exhausted if her eyes were playing _those_ kinds of tricks on her.

 

* * *

 

   Hermione tossed and turned before checking the bedside clock for what must have been the tenth time that hour and let out another huff of frustration. It seemed that sleep would elude her, yet again. Throwing back the covers and sliding into her slippers, Hermione quietly made her way across the room she shared with Ginny and snuck out the door.

Perhaps if she curled up by the fire in the little den she saw just off the foyer she could find a good book and read until sleep decided to find her.

Quickly and quietly, Hermione tip-toed down the stairs, trying her best not to cause the old house to creak and wake any of the other guests. Smiling slightly when she reached the landing, Hermione made her way around the corner and into the dimly lit den only to stop short at the sight which greeted her.

There, sitting in the exact chair she had been picturing herself curling up in, lay fast asleep the flash of light she had convinced herself she imagined earlier that evening. Panic sliced through her veins, and Hermione took a step back, trying to get out of the room as quickly as possible.

She froze a second later as her foot landed on the floorboard behind her and a loud groan echoed about the room, startling the young man in the armchair.

She heard him stand and watched as his familiar shadow danced across the room. Taking a deep breath she slowly looked up through her curtain of hair and met the startled grey eyes dead on.

“Malfoy…”

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I do not own anything of JK Rowling’s or the Harry Potter universe. I am merely borrowing these characters and surroundings for the time being.

 

** Chapter Two: Magic in Hogwarts **

 

There was a water spot that kept filtering in and out of her vision as she stared in front of her trying to concentrate on the wood grains that made up the table she sat at. She could hear the quiet conversation Ginny and Luna were having to her right and feel the movement of George’s jittery knee beside her. Charlie was pacing by a window, heavily sighing every few minutes while he checked a pocket watch, waiting for their meeting to begin.

Hermione was having a hard time trying to keep her mind from wandering too far. Since last night every time she let it have free reign it always seemed to float back to one subject. One subject she wasn’t remotely comfortable with having in her brain. She had been forcing herself to focus on the most mundane things since then in order to trick her mind into leaving well enough alone. Now however she was facing some difficulty with that when the object of her avoidance was sitting directly across from her.

It had been a shock to bump into Malfoy the night before. Even more so to find out that he was taking part in the venture of rebuilding Hogwarts. Learning that he wasn’t here of his own accord but simply a mandatory community service due to his war crimes just heightened the ill effects of his presence. It was overwhelming no matter his reasons for being here. She had been on hyper-drive ever since their late night rendezvous. Her wand only mere inches from her fingertips. She couldn’t shake the fight or flight feeling that seemed to associate itself with having him near her.

Logically she knew she had nothing to fear from Malfoy. She knew what he had faced in the war, the decision he had been forced to make, but that didn’t take away from the fact that he fought for the _other_ side. The side that took the lives of her friends. That had almost taken _her_ life. It didn’t take away the nightmares she had of lying on the floor of his childhood home screaming and writhing under the feel of the Cruciatus his Aunt had performed on her while he stood by and watched. It didn’t make her forget the Room of Requirement where he had cornered them, where his friend had attempted to murder her, Harry, and Ron, almost dooming them all. It didn’t take away the years of taunts and cruel name calling, the feeling of utter worthlessness he had bestowed in her, or the fact that the ideals he and his family held were one of the reasons the war had ever needed to be fought in the first place. That his thoughts on her and her worth are what caused her to grow up much too fast in another world she barely felt safe in, to begin with.

To her, Malfoy was the very image of everything that the war had represented. It was hard to sit here now and face him after everything that had happened, after the devastation of losing her childhood to his bigotry. It was bad enough that she would be returning to the scene of the final battle, asked to face down the demons that still lived within her, but now she was being asked to do so with the one person who gave her demons a face. She was haunted by memories of Malfoy, and now she would be haunted by the man himself.

There was a small commotion outside the room they all sat in before the door opened revealing her once beloved Professor. Minerva McGonagall was followed by Kingsley Shacklebolt and Percy Weasley, who nodded slightly at his siblings as he entered the room holding a number of official looking scrolls.

As Percy and McGonagall sorted the parchments, Kingsley seemed to assess the room quietly, “Looks like the majority of you are all here. Of course, a few will be joining us tomorrow morning, and I do believe Miss Bones is due to arrive in two days’ time. Until then though I think we can at the very least start with the basics of this project, don’t you agree?”

McGonagall looked up from the parchment Percy had just laid on the table and nodded, “I think those that arrive later can easily be caught up Minister if you’d like to begin.”

“Of course, of course. As you are all aware, we are here in the hopes of rebuilding Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry to its former glory. During the final battle, much of the Castle’s foundation was destroyed. We have gathered you all together because we believe each and every one of you will be valuable assets in helping with this endeavour. You are uniquely qualified in one way or another to assist us.” Kingsley smiled at each of them in turn and then perched himself on the edge of the table looking across the scrolls that now lay flat in front of him. “Now, a good portion of research has been done already in order to discover just what it is we will be working with, in getting Hogwarts up and running. Countless magical contractors are already at Hogwarts working on the restructuring of the castle and have already made a great amount of leeway in getting the school into safe working order. The reason we have called you all here, however, has more to do with the magical aspect of Hogwarts’ foundation. This is where your talents will lie. I will allow Headmistress McGonagall to explain things further,” Kingsley paused to check a pocket watch that dangled from his robes pocket, “For I must be heading back to the Ministry as we speak. I have a lunch with the Russian Minister I simply can’t miss. I wish you all well and I have every faith that you will restore our beloved castle to its previous glory. Good day to you all.” With that Kingsley swept out of the room, followed by Percy.

Hermione stared after him incredulously, slightly incensed at his quick dismissal of a project he had shanghaied them all into. Politics had really changed the Kingsley she had briefly known and admired. After the war, it had fallen on someone to pick up the pieces, and the Wizarding World had turned to a leader. With Harry refusing to take up the mantle, Kingsley had stepped up and taken on the role of interim Minister. Now, however, Hermione wasn’t so sure that had been in their best interests. He was no longer the quiet unassuming man she had met at Grimmauld Place. The man who had been determined to make the world a better place with grit and loyalty and determination. Now he was a man who flittered and fluttered his way through the spotlight, leaving the heavy lifting of the after-war rebuild to others and taking the praise for himself.  She couldn’t help but think about that saying; _power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely_. She had been too absorbed at the time to think anything more than ‘Kingsley is a good man’ when the decision had been made. Now she constantly wondered if good men were enough for this world. Especially when it was so easy to change good men into something else.

Hermione sighed heavily and turned her gaze from the door at the sound of a throat clearing and looked up at Minerva McGonagall. It was amazing to Hermione how much the war had changed some people while others had stayed almost exactly the same. Despite the fact that McGonagall now walked with a cane and a slight limp, her old Professor still looked to her like she did the very first time she had met her at the age of eleven.

“Well, as Minister Shacklebolt has already stated, your presence here has been required due to your many varied abilities.” McGonagall looked up quickly and cleared her throat once more, “I’m sure at least one or two of you here have read the complete version of ‘Hogwarts: A History’, and therefore know that the castle wasn’t just simply built with brick and mortar, but was infused with a number of different enchantments over the years. When Hogwarts fell to Voldemort’s army in the Battle, those spells broke and disintegrated. Only a very few remain embedded in the castle’s structure. So we have asked you all here to be a part of the rebranding of the magic that will infuse the new structure of Hogwarts.” At this McGonagall took a deep breath and looked around the room.

Hermione noted that her gaze lingered on Malfoy a little longer than the others before sighing softly, and wondered what the older woman was thinking.

“We are facing a difficult problem when it comes to this, however, due to the fact that the most secure of the spells had been branded into the castle by the Founder’s themselves, and have not been, to our knowledge, shared with any of the successive Headmasters. This is why we have gathered you here instead of the castle. We need your help in researching all that we can about the Four Founders. In the next two days, we will be debriefing you with everything that the Hogwarts staff and former Headmasters and Headmistresses know about the castle, as well as everything we have discovered about the Founders themselves. After this, we will head to Hogwarts in order to go through any and all information that we might find within the castle itself.”

McGonagall spent the next few hours examining the major areas of the castle that would give them the most work, and explaining the significant damage that needed to be handled still. It wasn’t until Charlie’s stomach grumbled rather loudly for all to hear, that she paused to allow them time to break for dinner.

Hermione remained seated alone in the room, digesting all that had been said throughout the meeting, and wondering once again, exactly what she had gotten herself into.


	3. Chapter Three: Wonder

** Chapter Three: Wonder **

 

Hermione sits with Ginny on the back porch of the Inn, staring out into the lush green yard that is sprawled leisurely behind it. Off in the distance, she can just make out a flash of bright blond hair as the sun begins to set.

It’s been four days now since she’s checked into the Inn with Luna and Ginny. Four days since she’s learned that Draco Malfoy would be sharing the same space as her. Four days since their late-night encounter in the den. Four days, 8 hours, and 22 minutes of her thoughts circling around the man she’s called ‘enemy’ for most of her life.

 Beside her, Ginny sighs heavily and twists in her seat. Hermione knows what’s coming before the redhead even opens her mouth. She’s been waiting for this moment since the meeting earlier that morning. Honestly, she’s surprised Ginny’s curiosity has stayed cooped up this long.

The problem is, she doesn’t have an answer. She just can’t explain the situation. Logically, Hermione knows what happened, but emotionally she’s lost. In the past few hours, she’s been over and over it in her mind. Going through each moment in excruciating detail, trying to puzzle out the actions behind the enigma that is Malfoy.

 

_Hermione stands across from Seamus, her hands splayed out on the table before her, as she stares down the fiery-tempered man._

_“All I’m saying Seamus is that we can’t discount the fact that while Rowena Ravenclaw was exceptionally brilliant, she was also very conceited and self-serving. Starting with her as our main focus just doesn’t make sense. She was more interested in gaining knowledge for herself and expanding her magical abilities for **herself** \- that to think of her as one of the main magical inputs into Hogwarts’ history isn’t – “_

_“Oh c’mon Hermione, even you said it! She was brilliant! Not starting with the most intelligent and magically gifted of the four Found-“_

_“Most magically gifted?! Out of the four of them! Well, now I know you’ve not thoroughly been reading the research given to us. Honestly, to rank Ravenclaws contributions to Hogwarts over the other four Founders is absurd! I mean for Merlin’s sake Seamus, out of everything we’ve found in the research so far, Ravenclaw has only contributed magically to Hogwarts once, whereas between the other three Founders there are records of dozens of their contributions.”_

_“Well, that’s exac-“_

_“I have to agree with Granger.”_

_Hermione whips toward her left from where the soft words were spoken and stares slightly agog at the man seated there._

_“I’m sorry, what did you just say?”_

_Malfoy clears his throat and looks about the room. Noticing that every eye has turned towards him, he sits a bit straighter, squaring his shoulders as he stares past them all towards to the wall._

_“Well from a purely logical standpoint, going off of the only research we have with us on the Founders and their magical contributions to Hogwarts, I would have to agree with Granger. Ravenclaw isn’t who we should prioritize at this time.”_

_Hermione blinks slowly, her lip finding its way between her teeth, nibbling it harshly in her uncertainty. She stares at the blond man across the table, her eyes narrowed in suspicion. The entire room has gone eerily still as they take in Malfoy’s words._

_Finally, after an awkward amount of time has passed with no one else speaking, Malfoy angrily huffs out, “It’s not that big of a deal really. No need for everyone to act this stunned. I think we all know that Granger here got her moniker as the brightest witch of her age for a reason. She’s made a good point and I’ve agreed with it. Let’s move on shall we.”_

_There’s a shuffling of papers as Charlie clears his throat, “Alright we’ll come back to Rowena-“_

_“I’m sorry Charlie, hold on a moment, I just need to clarify something.”_

_Hermione turns toward the new voice and gives Ginny a calculating look as she takes in the slightly mischievous gleam in the redhead’s eye._

_Ginny leans forward and with a smirk worthy of Malfoy himself, addresses the blond directly for the first time since they’ve arrived, “Malfoy, are you saying that you agree that Hermione is, in fact, the brightest **witch** of our age?”_

_All eyes drift towards Malfoy as everyone in the room waits with slightly bated breath to see how the former Death Eater will respond to Ginny’s pointed question._

_Hermione watches as Malfoy’s cheeks flush a dull pink and his eyes close briefly for a moment before he breathes heavily through his nose and lifts his chin to stare down her friend._

_“I believe that is exactly what I said Weasley, yes.”_

Hermione hears Ginny sigh again and rolls her eyes. With a puff of air through her cheeks, she turns to face her friend and with very little patience left utters, “Alright, out with it Gin.”

Ginny looks over at her, eyes wide in faux innocence, “Out with what?”

“Oh don’t give me that. You know exactly what.”

Ginny props her chin on her fist and finally relents to the glare being thrown her way, “It’s interesting what happened at the meeting don’t you think?”

Hermione rolls her eyes and huffs, “Obviously you seem to think so.”

“Well of course I do! And I know you do too. You don’t fool me for a minute, Hermione Granger. Your mind has been moving a mile a minute ever since, and it’s not been focused on the Hogwarts research. I mean, the boy who bullied you for years, the boy who claimed you weren’t a true witch because you weren’t born to a purely magical family, who joined a group of homicidal maniacs hell-bent on extinguishing your kind for “stealing magic”, comes out and declares that he does, in fact, see you as an actual red-blooded witch. Not only that though, but he also does so in front of an entire room of people. Some of whom helped to bully you and most likely still hold these beliefs! I mean, did you see Pansy Parkinson’s face?! I thought she was actually going to combust! And Blaise Zabini was so shocked by Malfoy’s words it looked like he’d been slapped silly,” Hermione shakes her head as Ginny continues, “Don’t you think it’s interesting that he’s willing to declare something so boldly after all these years of claiming to believe otherwise? You must see the significance in that.”

Hermione scratches her nose and looks out over the sprawling lawn once more, avoiding looking in the direction of the man they are currently speaking of.

“Maybe there is significance in it Gin. Or maybe, the more logical answer to his behaviour is that he was sitting in a room mostly dominated by people who fought his side in the war and won. People who control his probation and determine if he is still a threat to this new society, and he decided that the best answer was the one he gave. A snake can shed its skin, but it can’t turn into something it’s not.”

There’s a moment of silence, and Hermione turns to see Ginny frowning off into the distance. Following her gaze she watches as Pansy Parkinson marches up to Malfoy, arms waving angrily in front of the stoic blond as her mouth moves silently but rapidly. As Parkinson takes a breath Malfoy’s lips move in response and Parkinson recoils, staring in disbelief at the man in front of her. Suddenly the irate witch lashes out, striking her palm across his cheek and storming away.

Ginny sighs and watches as Malfoy nods and tilts his head to the sky before slowly walking in the opposite direction of his furious former housemate. Slowly Ginny turns and gives Hermione a scrutinizing look.

“Perhaps. Or perhaps he wasn’t ever a snake at all.”

 

* * *

 

 

That night Hermione is left tossing and turning again, images from the past plaguing her as she tries to fall asleep. She listens to the soft sounds of Ginny’s snoring before sighing. Already used to this routine Hermione rises from her bed slowly, being sure to stay as quiet as possible so as not to wake her sleeping friend. Sliding on her slippers and throwing her arms into her housecoat, Hermione makes her way quietly out the door and down the hallway towards the kitchen below.

Still lost in her own ruminations, she only barely makes out the hushed voices coming from behind the door in front of her. Slowing her steps Hermione cautiously makes her way forward, unsure if she should interrupt the late night conversation or turn back toward her room.

As she nears she recognizes Luna’s muffled but melodic voice and with a sigh of happy relief, opens the door only to stop abruptly in her tracks at the sight before her.

Malfoy and Luna sit side by side staring at her, teacups raised halfway to their lips, an awkward silence enveloping them both.

Hermione stares back and forth between them, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt, I’ll just –“, with a useless gesture towards the door she makes to turn around when Luna’s voice stops her.

“That’s alright Hermione, you’re not interrupting. Draco and I were just keeping each other company while we waited out the night. Would you like to join us? Draco’s made a wonderful pot of chamomile tea.”

Hermione stares at her for a moment, unsure of what to say. Her eyes shift nervously toward Malfoy, and she shakes her head slowly, “No, I – uh, well…”

She trails off as Malfoy stands abruptly and empties his tea in the sink, “I’m getting rather tired now Lovegood. I think I’ll take my leave.”

Luna smiles a little sadly but says calmly, “Alright Draco, if you insist. Although, I do believe it’s Luna now. After everything, I don’t think it would be right to call one another by our surnames, don’t you agree?”

Malfoy stares at Luna for a moment as Hermione shifts uncomfortably, then nods his head sharply before moving swiftly past her and out the door.

Hermione stands there uncertainly as Luna continues to gaze after him, “You know, he’s lovely company when he allows himself to be.”

Hermione shifts again and fidgets with her housecoat’s sleeve, “I’ll have to take your word for it, Luna.”

She watches as her friend sighs heavily and turns to stare a bit gloomily into her teacup, “I often wish we allowed ourselves to see past the layers others put before them and into the underbelly that is their true self.”

“I – I don’t think it’s that simple Luna.”

Luna gets up and grabs a teacup from the pantry behind her before gesturing Hermione toward a seat at the island.

“Nothing is simple of course. How is one to understand what they cannot or have not seen for themselves? Very few are even willing to try. We have all seen and done different things and we all have our own experiences. While some may be shared, they vary still in our perspectives and how we feel about them. If you were to peel back the layers of such experiences, allowed yourself to peer at it through a different lens, could you be so certain that you would see what you always thought you would?”

Hermione stares at Luna for a moment as the other girl pours a steaming cup of tea into a teacup and passes it to her. Wrapping her fingers around it for warmth Hermione looks down at the counter beneath her and says quietly, “I’m not certain what you mean.”

“Hmmm,” is all she receives in reply, and hesitantly she looks upon her friend, wondering why Luna has started this particular line of conversation tonight.

Luna tilts her head to the side and takes a sip from her cup before placing it on the saucer before her and staring at Hermione with wide unwavering eyes. “Have I ever told you of my time during the war, locked away in the dungeons of Malfoy Manor?”

Hermione stares at Luna and shakes her head.

“No, I don’t suppose I have. I haven’t talked about it much with anyone other than Harry and one other. Most assume that is because I am damaged by what occurred there, that I am too broken and hurt to want to speak of it. While I cannot disagree that I am indeed bruised by the experiences I had there and in the war in general, it is not why I keep it to myself. It is because all but two people have even asked. It is too hard for people to hear of my suffering, of anyone’s suffering. Too hard to listen while someone tries to sort out the broken pieces of their being in front of them. While people are capable of empathy and display it in amazing and often extraordinary ways, most can only handle so much, especially when they themselves are trying to recover from their own experiences.”

Luna sighs and shifts slowly to her feet, “Our experiences in this world shape our perceptions. What would happen though I wonder, should you open yourself to others’ views? If you were to strip away your predetermined ideas of someone and listened openly and without judgment to their stories and their feelings? I think many would be surprised by their discoveries. We have all been through hell Hermione, but it is how we decide to go forward now that matters most. We must learn from the mistakes of the past, and that starts with putting aside preconceived notions and allowing ourselves to see every angle of the equation. Not every action or person deserves forgiveness. But then again, not every wrong merits damnation either. I like to think that we are more than our experiences. That while shaped by them we are not them. That we are capable of empathy and understanding, and when one needs it most, forgiveness. That while justice should be served, vengeance should not be taken. I like to think that we survived and fought this war in order to form a stronger and more understanding and _inclusive_ society. But most of all, I need to believe that we did not fight this hard, and lose so much, to then turn into the very thing we were fighting against.”

Luna smooths her hands over her robes as she moves towards the door, her voice floating behind her and leaving a deep mark on the quiet now permeating the room and the woman left alone in it.


	4. Chapter Four: Fractured

** Chapter Four: Fractured **

 

Hermione folded a pair of jeans as she looked about the room she was staying in with Ginny for the last time. It had been two weeks since they’d arrived at the old Inn, and now they were set to head back to Hogwarts the next morning. Hermione sighed heavily as she added the last articles of clothing to her small beaded bag and sat heavily on her bed with a frown. Looking beside her on the bed, she stared uncertainly at the envelope she had yet to touch. A letter from Harry.

They hadn’t spoken for weeks. Ever since Hermione had told Harry and Ron of her plans to return to Hogwarts. Harry had understood, of course, he had. Ron, however, had been livid. He’d taken it as a personal attack on their relationship, said things that could never be unspoken. It only got worse when Harry confessed in the heat of their argument that he wouldn’t be joining Ron in Auror training.

 

_Ron stood before her, tall and imposing, arms crossed, as he looked upon her with narrowed eyes, “I’m sorry, but I don’t understand.”_

_“I don’t know how else to say it, Ron. I’m not going to be living here anymore. I’m leaving for Hogwarts next week to help with rebuilding the school and after that…well, I’m not sure.” Hermione shrugged her shoulders for emphasis._

_“You’re leaving me in order to build a school?”_

_Hermione stared at him, surprised by the anger in his voice, but not terribly surprised by the words themselves. With a heavy sigh, she shook her head. This would be a long conversation. She looked over at Harry who was staring at the table in front of him with a small worried frown marring his face._

_“Maybe it’d be best if we took this conversation elsewhere Ron?”_

_Ron snorted and shook his head, “No you wanted to talk to both Harry and I. Go ahead, explain yourself.”_

_“There’s nothing for me to explain Ronald! I’m leaving the Burrow, yes that’s true. I don’t plan on coming back here to live. I’ve imposed on your Mum and Dad’s hospitality enough. I want to move on from the war Ron, I want to put the pieces of my life back together, and I just don’t think I can do that here.”_

_“With me?”_

_Hermione let out a groan, her head falling into her hands, “That’s not what I mean and you know it, Ronald. I don’t understand why on earth you would think it was.”_

_“I don’t know Hermione, seems pretty clear cut to me. You won’t be here. I’ll be off in Auror training, you’ll be at Hogwarts and then who knows where, and what? What is there for us when you aren’t here? How do you expect to spend any time with me when I’m in training 10 hours a day? When I’m working backshift at the Ministry? Do you not care enough about us to make this work?”_

_“Of course I care! How dare you! I’ve not once ever insinuated otherwise. I’ll just be an apparation away, Ron. We can see each other whenever we like with a little planning on both our ends. I’m not, however, going to sit around in your childhood home and wait for you to have the time for me while you’re off chasing glory and playing at being the Ministry’s poster boy!”_

_Hermione was standing now, seething at the sheer audacity of the man before her. How dare he! How dare he even suggest such things! She had thought he had seen the light, had understood everything that day in the Forest of Dean when he had come back. Now she wondered what exactly Ron had assumed of their relationship should they ever start one…now that they had. She adored Ron’s mother, but she didn’t want to be Molly. She may be confused about who she was after the war, but she knew her role in life wasn’t to only ever be a housewife and mother, no matter how noble a profession it could be. She wanted more, even if she didn’t know what ‘more’ was at the moment. She was sure Ron had known that about her. Apparently, given his current anger towards her, she had been wrong._

_Ron was breathing heavily, turning a mottled shade of purple as they stood glaring at one another, Harry shifting awkwardly in his seat beside them._

_“So that’s what you think? I’m playing at glory? That I’m off looking for the spotlight?”_

_Ron’s voice was low. Hermione knew she should tread carefully going forward with their argument but the words and opinions she’d held in ever since Ron had agreed to jump forward into Auror training on behest of the Minister of Magic himself, were bubbling forward rapidly. She didn’t think she’d be able to hold them in even if she wanted too._

_“Yes, that’s exactly what I think. You’re so determined to be known as something more than a Weasley or friend to Harry Potter, or a third of the golden trio, that you jumped at the opportunity to have your name out there. You didn’t even stop to think of the strings attached to the Minister's offer. You didn’t even stop to think about why they would want to recruit someone who hadn’t even completed their education! It’s a requirement for a reason Ron, and what? You’re just so good that they’re going to wave the rules for you? Did you ever stop to ask yourself why? Why do you think I only agreed to help Hogwarts so long as my name stays out of it? Because I know how they’ll use me otherwise.”_

_“They’re waving them for Harry too, but I don’t see you lecturing him about taking the opportunity!”_

_“That’s because he –“, Hermione stopped mid-sentence, eyes wide at what she’d almost let slip. She glanced over at Harry’s sigh, an apologetic grimace on her face._

_Harry shifted and looked towards Ron, who was eyeing them speculatively, an ugly look on his face, “He what?”_

_Harry stood, hands in his pockets as he stared at his best friend, “I’m not taking the opportunity, Ron. I won’t be joining you in Auror training.”_

_Hermione stood watching Ron and Harry, her lip pulled between her teeth, an anxious feeling in the pit of her stomach. She knew things were about to implode._

_“I see,” Ron said between clenched teeth. He glanced back toward Hermione, “And somehow you knew about this?”_

_“I – well –“ Hermione stumbled over her words, now very sure that what she said next would make or break this conversation and scared of continuing its course._

_“I told her last week.”_

_“You told her last week? And if this hadn’t have happened, when exactly had you planned on sharing this with me?” Ron was staring at them coldly, a furious glint in his eye._

_“I wasn’t sure.”_

_“I see. And do you share her sentiments? Is this why you aren’t joining the Aurors as well? I mean you would think with as many rules as you’ve broken as the Great Harry Potter, one more wouldn’t do you in.”_

_“Ron –“_

_“No, Hermione, don’t. Let’s just get this out in the open.” Harry heaved a great sigh and then stood a little taller, looking at Ron with a steely expression, “I never agreed to go into Auror training when Kingsley came to me with the proposition. It was your assumption that I would, but did you ever once ask me what I thought? How I felt? You want to do this Ron, fine. I won’t begrudge you your choices, but do I think it’s a mistake? Yes, I do. I agree with Hermione. The Wizarding World is recovering from war. Sentiments are varied. While I can’t say that Kingsley is a bad man, I do believe he is being swayed into the life of a Politician. The Ministry is determined to be seen as good in this post-war economy. To tape over their role in the war. To mask their incompetency in protecting its citizens. Kingsley as Minister isn’t enough to lead the way. They need more faces who fought against Voldemort on their side. They’re recruiting. I don’t want to be a part of that. I don’t want to be a poster child for the Ministry. I didn’t when Scrimgeour came to me, and I still don’t. I’ve had enough people using me as their puppet over the years, I don’t plan on allowing anyone else to pull my strings.”_

_“So you think they’re using me? That I’m no more than a glorified figurehead? You don’t think I’m capable of joining the Aurors without a pass, is that it? Once again you’re the Great Harry Potter and she’s the Brilliant Hermione Granger, and I’m just the back-up Ron Weasley. I see how it is.”_

_“Ron, that’s not at all how we see you! We just think you’re being hasty in accepting this position.”_

_“Don’t humour me now Hermione. You’ve both made it very clear what you think of me and where I stand in your lives. I mean, Harry did come to you first after all. You both think I’m the last choice. They couldn’t get Harry Potter or Hermione Granger, but Ronald Weasley should do. Besides, what do you care how any of this makes me feel Hermione? You’re leaving me after all. Both of you are. I suppose that should tell us all where this friendship lies. I’m not in it. Frankly, I’m not sure whether I even want to be anymore.”_

_With that, Ron stomped angrily from the room, throwing open the back door and slamming it harshly on his way out._

_Hermione and Harry stood staring at one another, lost as to what to say as they listened to the faint crack of Ron’s disapparation._

It had been three weeks since she had last seen Harry or Ron. She had left Ron a letter before she had left but hadn’t heard from him. Harry and she had spoken very little after Ron had left that night. He had told her he was going back to Grimmauld Place. That he had things he needed to sort out for himself. They had held each other for a while before saying their goodbyes, knowing something major had shifted for all of them that night. She hadn’t heard from him since. Now as she stared at his unopened letter, she wondered what they could possibly have to say to one another. The war had irrevocably changed them. That night with Ron had altered things further. She felt adrift in her and Harry’s friendship for the first time in the almost eight years they had known one another. Tentatively she reached for the letter and cracked the seal.

 

**Hermione,**

**I don’t know if it’s fair that I write to you now. Especially when I write to you in need. Ginny says I should though, that despite everything that has happened; the war, that night, Ron. No matter it all, that at the base of everything, our friendship still lingers. She’s right of course. I hope that as your friend, you’ll understand I don’t write to burden you, or at least not with the intention too.**

**I’ve been lost, Hermione. Lost in what my life is since Voldemort fell. Ever since I was eleven I’ve been on one course; end Voldemort or die trying. I don’t know where I fit into things now that he’s dead. I hadn’t ever really expected to live through it all. Didn’t dare to hope for an ‘after’. I had expected to die in that forest that night.**

**What do I do Hermione? How do I move forward? Where do I go from here? Everything feels so far removed from reality. I wake up every morning expecting this all to be a dream. To find myself back in that tent with you and the smell of cats as my only company, the weight of the world on our shoulders. I’m scared of what I am without that weight. Who I am without it.**

**We come from similar circumstances. I know it’s why our bond has always been so strong. Why you’ve always understood me better than anyone. We were thrust into a world we knew nothing about, into a war that we hadn’t understood, into a role we didn’t ask for. Made into the faces of our generation against our will. Left lost and confused when our roles played out. Left to find ourselves in the rubble of this new life.**

**Ginny says I should go out and find myself. Explore the world. Get away from it all and come back when I know more about myself. Escape.**

**Luna seems to think I only need to look within to find the answers. I’ve tried, but I’m not sure I know what she means.**

**What do you say, Hermione? How are you moving forward? Is joining the mission to rebuild Hogwarts a means of escape or introspection for you? I know you’re as lost as I am, we spoke of it briefly weeks ago. What would you want me to say to you if you came to me? What are you doing to move forward? Can we move forward? I’m not so sure.**

**I wish you were here. I wish so many things. That things with Ron hadn’t gone the way they had. That life wasn’t so complicated. Wasn’t it supposed to be easier, happier once Voldemort was gone?**

**I’m sorry. I’m sorry it’s not. I’m sorry for a lot of things.**

**Harry**

 

Tears gathered in Hermione’s eyes as she took in the desolation of Harry’s words. Slowly she stood and walked toward the small desk that sat in the shared room. She didn’t know what comfort she could provide Harry. She certainly didn’t have any answers, but maybe opening the dialogue between them could help them find solace in their experiences these last few months. At the very least, she could reach out to a friend who needed her. Perhaps in doing so, she could mend the fractured parts between them and find steady ground in their friendship again.


	5. Chapter Five: Be Careful. Always

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since it's my Birthday today I thought I'd be nice and leave you with a little treat. Hope you enjoy!

**Chapter Five – Be Careful. Always.**

 

Hermione stood staring straight ahead, Ginny’s hand clutched tightly in her own. Pieces of rock whizzed by the two young women as they took in the sight of Hogwarts for the first time since the battle; watching as the broken castle was knitted back together.

“I’m not sure how I should be feeling right now,” Ginny whispered to Hermione as she eyed a rather large section of wall that was currently being mended by a group of witches and wizards stood below it.

Hermione hummed an answer as she closed her eyes, unable to handle the sight before her any longer. She felt Ginny’s finger squeeze her hand tighter and was thankful for the reassurance it gave her. Opening her eyes once more, she twisted her head about, intent on looking anywhere but at the castle before her.

She made out a solitary figure standing by the black lake. She watched as Malfoy took up a rock and skipped it along the glassy surface of the water. His shoulders heaved a little as he watched the ripples form from the skipping rock, and Hermione found herself wondering what was going through his head. How he might be feeling being back at Hogwarts.

Caught up in her scrutiny of the blond, Hermione almost missed what Ginny was saying to her, “I’m sorry?”

“I should go find George. I don’t want him to be alone when he enters the castle. Will you be alright on your own?”

Ginny stared at her as Hermione looked back up at the structure before her, “I’ll be fine Gin. Go find George. I’ll meet up with you guys later for dinner.”

She felt Ginny squeeze her hand once more before the redhead turned and walked away. Sighing, Hermione wrapped her arms around herself, unsure of what to do now. She wasn’t ready to walk through the halls of Hogwarts again. She needed a little more time before she faced the memories that awaited her in there.

Unconsciously she turned her head, trying to seek out the man that had held her interest just moments before, only to find the small shore of the lake empty. Quietly, Hermione turned around, intent on walking around the grounds, only to find her path blocked.

“Excuse me,” Hermione looked up at the tall man as she tried to make her way around him.

She’d never really interacted with Blaise Zabini while at school. She had seen him in the background, always lingering around the other Slytherin students when they taunted and ridiculed the different houses. He had never seemed to participate himself, always preferring to stand in the shadows and smirk over the misfortune of others, while his fellow housemates did the hexing and name-calling. He was tall and slim, and yet somehow he seemed to take up enough space to make her feel crowded.

Just as she was walking past him, he spoke, “I’d be careful Granger. He has a way of sneaking up on you that you wouldn’t expect.”

“I beg your pardon?”

Zabini stared down at her and then diverted his gaze toward the shore of the black lake, “Just be careful.”

Hermione stared after him, mind whirring, as she watched the tall dark figure make his way towards the front doors of the castle.

_Just be careful_.

The words reverberated in her skull as she turned and made her way to the greenhouses.

_Just be careful._

* * *

 

 

   Harry stood with his hands clutched around a sheet of paper, staring at the house before him, rocking slightly on the balls of his feet. Shaking his head and squaring his shoulders; He thought back to the night before when he had received the letter he was now holding, and wondered if this is what it had meant, or if he was just projecting.

 

_Harry sat in the dank and dusty library at Grimmauld place, listening to the pitter-patter of rain outside, lost in thought. The tapping at the window startled him and he jumped up from his seat, wand raised protectively, before he realized that an owl bearing a letter was what had disturbed him._

_Scratching his scar and opening the window, giving the bird a slightly sheepish smile, Harry thanked the owl and untied the letter before settling back down into his chair. He wasn’t in a hurry to read it. It was probably another letter from Ginny. Fiddling with the paper in his hands, Harry looked about the room and wondered what to do. He had so many options in front of him but he felt oddly stuck. He glanced down at the paper he was tossing between his hands, the familiar writing making him do a quick double take. She had written him back already? It had only been a day since Harry had sent the letter to Hermione. He hadn’t expected a reply, at least not this quickly. Eagerly he ripped into the envelope and breathed deeply as he devoured her sure and slanted handwriting._

_Harry,_

_I’ve never felt so unsure of something I was about to say. So lost in my answers. What do I say to you, when I can’t answer these questions myself? I’m falling apart, Harry, and the pieces that are slowly fitting back together don’t feel like me anymore._

_In my small time here at the Inn, doing research and confronting the idea of going back to Hogwarts I’ve been forced to come face to face with one of my biggest demons. It’s left me adrift in a sea of confusion. I’m seeing a part of the world I never bothered to look at before. Pieces of my past are being questioned. My outlook on everything we faced has always been so black and white. Good versus Evil. I’ve barely ever let in the grey I know now lingers in-between. I thought I questioned everything, looked at every angle, thought of every hypothesis. My emotional connection to these experiences has left me sure of what I was seeing. My righteous indignation on behalf of those suffering and oppressed made me sure that I was always the good person, I was always doing the right thing. Anyone who wasn’t following in those footsteps was obviously in the wrong. Now, with facing the aftermath of everything, well hindsight really might just be a bitch._

_I knew that going back to Hogwarts would be a way for me to confront the past year that has been haunting me. I thought it may be cathartic. I thought I’d be able to let go of the pain if I walked the same path where I’d watched our lives fall apart. I thought I might confront the pain of losing Fred, Remus, Tonks, Lavender, Colin, and so many more. I’d watch and help Hogwarts rebuild itself from the ground up and in it, I would rebuild too._

_I can’t say that what I have been forced to confront so far is helping, but it’s certainly turning the tides inside of me. The pain and anger and feelings of worthlessness haven’t gone away. It’s all still broken, rattling around my heart and my head, but I think maybe I’m seeing the pieces more clearly now. Feeling things a little more clearly now._

_I can’t tell you how to get through this Harry. No one can. You need to find the answers on your own. I know you will. You have always been stronger than you thought you were. I’m here though should you ever need me. Just because I can’t do this for you, doesn’t mean I can’t be there with you. I’m here._

_Always,_

_Hermione_

Sighing heavily, Harry nodded to himself and marched toward the house. Before he could lose his nerve, his fist came forward and a loud knock echoed back at him from the door. He waited slightly impatiently as he heard shuffling from inside before the door was flung open and he was face to face with someone he never thought he would see again.

Slowly he inclined his head towards him and with as civil a tone as he could manage, addressed the man stood there gaping, “Uncle Vernon.”


End file.
